


Home Alone

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [311]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, smol tracy boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:47:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>writerdarkflamespyre and I got talking on tumblr about the possibility of seeing Lucille in a future series, and they prompted: Okay you, please write that Thundebirds Home Alone AU, because I want it now please and I'm getting too excited and over flooding that quote with my reblogs cos you keep coming up with excellent things. Aaahhhh.</p><p>at which point I realized that I'm gonna have to watch Home Alone, aren’t I?  Also probably Die Hard :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Alone

 

Lucy’s fingers were warm around her mug as outside the snow fell, muffling all sound and cocooning their new home in white softness.  In the reflection of the glass, she could see her belly, as large as a full moon, and behind her, the boys clustered on the couch.

There were still boxes everywhere, but Lucy had insisted, and a woman seven months pregnant and not afraid to break out the big cow eyes had gotten her way.  The big sofas were clustered for now in a loose semi-circle, the Christmas tree opposite the fireplace so the ornaments twinkled in the light.  The boys had been through so much upheaval with the move and everything, she wasn’t going to deny them a proper Christmas.

Turning, Lucy automatically did a headcount, a habit she’d fallen into about the time John learned to toddle.  There he was, kneeling by Scott who was colouring in the book his Grandma had got him, full of images of planes and ships, past and future.  Scott had immediately recognized the plane on the cover as one of his father’s designs, and had been carefully, exactingly, colouring it in to show his father.

Lucy squashed down an uncharitable thought about Jeff and his designs, and where Jeff was, this snowy night so close to Christmas.  Scott was his father’s son, cut from whole cloth, right down to that little tilt of his chin as he coloured so carefully.  He’d accepted Jeff’s promise that he’d be home for Christmas like it was holy writ, and if he broke his promise to his son, Lucy was going to bring down holy hell.  He’d grown quiet, and serious, her eldest son,and Lucy wasn’t sure if she should be worried yet. For now, she put the thought to the back of her mind and kept counting off heads.

John was easy to find at the moment.  All she had to do was follow the chorus of _whys_.  John wanted to know _everything,_ and Lucy’s mother had joked that he wanted too much information to fit into the little golden head.

Lucy had just taught John how to query the internet, then locked the safesearch down to pre-school levels.  He’d spent the whole trip here alternating between asking them and asking his tablet questions, and Lucy made a note to check to see if he was still in safe search.  He was five, and both Jeff and their grandmother teased her for her worry, but Lucy was learning that her second son was _cunning_.

Lucy ruffled both their heads as she made her way past them to where Virgil was curled up on the sofa, already mostly asleep.  But when she sat next to him, sighing slightly as the weight came off her swollen ankles, the little lump under the cushions wriggled until his dark shock of hair was pressed against her leg.  Lucy re-tucked the blankets around him, stroking his shoulder for a moment through the blanket.  She should put them all to bed, but it was warm downstairs, and it was down the stairs.  Lucy wasn’t sure she could carry both Virgil and then Gordon up to their beds.

Gordon was already out like a light, sprawled in that boneless way small children slept, mouth open.  His hair was finally coming in, a shock of golden blond in the firelight.  She reached into the little crib she’d set up right there in the living room, and even in his sleep, Gordon gripped her finger like a lifeline.

They’d camp out down here tonight, next to the fire, and watch the lights on the tree flicker and flash.

Lucy blinked, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment.  But then she caught another flash, not from the tree, but from outside, the white light of a torch or lantern.  She was just about to get up when she heard the still-unfamiliar click, and her phone buzzed on the table.

John beat her too it, angling the screen to try and read the words even as he ferried it to her.  “Mama, what’s a …” he sounded out the syllables.  “Se-cur-ity alert?”


End file.
